(A poem by Medha R Krishnan)

He’s my living, breathing evidence
He’s gone beyond the fence
Of the prison of thought, dream and hatred
All without my consent

He’s crawled through every inch of my skin
As blood rushing through my veins
He secretly smiles at all my successes
And weeps through all my pain

He lingers through my photos
And tiptoes through my diary
I am oblivious and in a cage
Yet thinking I am free

He shares all my enemies
And lives through all my love
He sees through my eyes
By looking from up above

And as his show goes on
Day by day
I cease to understand
My life is a play

“The best show of all”
-honourable critics state
The comments never stop
And neither does the hate

I soon noticed
That he suddenly froze
As I let my cold metal screen
Come to a close

As I let the show pause
The show with no applause
I realize I had been too late
Others have taken the bait

I am exposed
My photos are loose
And everything slows

As I tighten the noose



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